The Cooking Lesson
by REIDFANATIC
Summary: ONE SHOT What happened in the cooking lesson at Rossi's house at the end of Proof?  SPOILER for Proof


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A/N: Although I was not happy with the way the situation between Reid and JJ was brought to a close so quickly, I stick to canon, so this is my take on the cooking lesson.

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"I'll just watch," Reid said as the other five members of his team under Rossi's tutelage, began the tasks of attempting to reproduce the dish he had demonstrated.

"Oh no you don't kid," Morgan insisted. "If I gotta be here cookin', you're not getting' out of it."

"No, I'll just watch," Reid held tightly to his second glass of wine. "I'm a lousy cook."

"Well then what better place for you to be," Hotch countered. "The master," he motioned to Rossi who acknowledged the accolade with a nod of his head and a small bow, "is willing to impart some of his vast knowledge."

Rossi and Hotch exchanged a look. The young man was here. They considered that a positive sign. Should they push him, they wondered. "Suit yourself," Rossi said, "but the rule is you eat what you cook, so you might end up being pretty hungry."

"I'm sure someone will share with me," Reid stated.

Five strong "No's" followed his remark."

"You think we're going to do all the work," Garcia shook a wooden spoon at him. "So that you can sit there and drink the wine and then enjoy… or perhaps not the results of our labor; think again sweetcheeks."

Reid turned his eyes to Rossi and pursed his lips, "Tough crowd."

Garcia threw her pasta into the rapidly boiling water while Morgan was beginning to chop an onion. He swiped at his eyes with his hand. "I hate cutting these things. Couldn't you have come up with a recipe without onions Rossi?"

"Cutting into an onion breaks the cells thereby releasing their contents causing amino acid sulfoxides to form sulfenic acids yielding propanethol S-oxide, a volatile sulfur compound that wafts toward the eyes. The gas reacts with water in your tears to form sulfuric acid. Sulfuric acid burns, stimulating the eyes to release more tears to wash the irritant away," Reid spouted.

Morgan opened his mouth to speak when he was elbowed in the side by Garcia who pointed a finger to the end of the island where Emily stood, knife in hand, ready to chop the parsley leaves in front of her. Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks although she was nowhere near the onions.

No one moved or spoke, but froze in their positions, as if transfixed for what seemed like forever. Finally Reid broke the spell, "E… Emily?"

"I missed that," she said barely above a whisper. "You'll never know how much I missed that. You don't know how many times I'd wonder about things and the only answer my mind would come up with was, 'Reid would know.' Don't ever stop." JJ left the cheese she was grating to put her arm around Emily's shoulder and give her friend a squeeze.

"Emily, don't tell him that. Do you have any idea what you're getting us into?" Morgan said sarcastically to lighten the mood.

"Yes," she nodded as she wiped her tears away. "You'll thank me."

"Morgan," Reid inclined his head toward mound of chopped onion on Morgan's cutting board, "the sooner you start cooking that, the sooner your eyes will feel better. Cooking inactivates the enzymes and…"

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"Reid," Garcia said, "I need you sweetcheeks."

"No, I told you I'm just watching Garcia."

"Look honey, all I want you to do is stir my pasta. I'm busy with my pancetta and onions here. I don't want my pasta to stick together so could you just give it a stir."

Reid considered he could do that much and got up from his stool and approached the stove. "Before you go near anything hot kid, take off that jacket," Morgan advised. "I don't want those sleeves catching fire. We all know how easily you can get in trouble. I've already put a fire out on your ass; I'm really not looking for a chance to put out another one."

Reid removed his jacket revealing his tee shirt; "Okay?" he spread his arms and looked at the others to see if he passed inspection.

"You look wonderful sweetcheeks, now take this," Garcia handed him a wooden spoon, "and stir that pasta."

"How long do I have to do it?" Reid asked as he swirled the spoon through the long stringy noodles.

"Not long, you're doing great." She patted him on the shoulder like he was a good dog. "Just make sure they're not sticking." Garcia told him.

"So, how do we know when it's done? Do we get to fling it against the wall?" Reid sounded excited by this prospect.

The team tried to hold itself together as they looked at Rossi's expression behind Reid. "There will be no flinging of pasta in this kitchen." Rossi said firmly.

"Whoa, okay," Reid backed away from the stove with his hands up like Rossi held a gun on him. "Yes sir," he saluted.

"If you hadn't been late," Rossi sounded like a teacher scolding a tardy student, "you'd know that I said we cook it until it's al dente which means…"

"To the tooth in Italian, cooked through but still with some bite to it. Did you know that al dente pasta has a lower glycemic index?"

Rossi's eyes squinted and shook his head. "What has that got to do with anything?"

"Well, maybe a lot if you're diabetic. I mean if you want a carb rush, go with soft, but if you want it to enter your body more slowly," he moved his arm to emphasize his point, "al dente is the way to go." Rossi continued to stare at Reid, "Sorry, just saying."

The other five could hold themselves in no longer and they burst into uncontrollable laughter. Rossi threw his hands up in defeat and fled from the room pointing his finger at Reid's glass of wine, "He's cut off... flinging pasta… glycemic index…" they could hear him muttering as he went.

Reid looked at the others and made his escape as well, "Uh, Rossi…"

Morgan stopped laughing and tapped Garcia on the shoulder, "Baby girl, I think something's burning."


End file.
